Fragile Wings

by Rebecca S. Buck

  Lilian, apparently sensing her pain, returned the pressure on Evelyn’s hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that we’ve never known, you see. His name’s on a wall at a cemetery called St. Roch, in France, and they buried a lot of unknown men there. But we’ve never been really certain what happened. It’s hard…You want to imagine it, but you don’t, at the same time.”

  “I wish I could tell you more. We know Eddie was shelled, they say that’s what caused him to be the way he is. So maybe the same thing happened to Frank.”

  “He’d survived nearly the whole war, you know. It makes me so furious to know that he’d have only had to make it another ten days.”

  “I’ve thought the same about Eddie. I mean, I know we didn’t lose him entirely, but—”

  “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not in the business of comparing who suffered the most and who lost the most. At least Frank’s at peace. Your Eddie got to come home but he has to remember it. I don’t know which is the best, really.”

  Evelyn was moved by Lilian’s understanding of her sense of loss. She crouched quietly, still holding Lilian’s hand and trying not to let the urge to cry overwhelm her.

  Eventually, Lilian broke the silence. “I’ll be all right. Do drink the rest of your tea, won’t you.” Lilian smiled at Evelyn and gestured to the chair she’d been sitting in previously. Evelyn returned to her chair and drained the remainder of her tea, nodding as Lilian offered to pour her another cup. “I don’t think any of us will ever really get over the war, will we?” Lilian sat back in her chair and looked at Evelyn thoughtfully. Her face was pale and her eyes rimmed with red.

  “I don’t think so. How can we? Everything changed,” Evelyn said.

  “It’s been such a long time now. I mean, I certainly don’t think about it every day. And I’ve got used to the fact that Frank isn’t here. But I’ve never really grieved and moved on, like they say you’re supposed to. I can’t help the anger, the sadness, that it even happened in the first place. And those idiots who go on about the glory of it. It didn’t do anything except kill a lot of our men. And their men too. No one won, if you ask me.”

  “I know what you mean.” Evelyn was startled by Lilian, even while she found herself in agreement. People in West Coombe did not tend to be so blunt about their feelings. The war had been accepted as in the country’s best interests against a sinister foe. If people questioned it, as the death toll had mounted, they did it quietly, at home. They certainly didn’t share their views with complete strangers. And yet Evelyn found it liberating to be able to talk as freely as Lilian. “I’ve always been angry too. It doesn’t seem like they were fighting for anything, really. And I’m not sure anything’s worth all that death and destruction.”

  “Nothing can be worth it.” Lilian sighed. “And how do we know it won’t happen again? I find I’m frightened of losing everything, whenever I stop for a moment, if I sit and think about life. If I can lose Frank, if so many people can lose someone they loved, how do we know it won’t all be taken away in a moment?”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Evelyn agreed enthusiastically, relieved to finally find someone who shared her sense of fear. “And it makes you think that you shouldn’t waste a day, but somehow you don’t know exactly how you should use those days either. You feel you should make the most, but it’s so hard to actually do it.”

  “Yes, that’s it.” Lilian smiled at Evelyn. “I see I don’t need to explain it to you.”

  “No. But I’m so happy you understand. No one in West Coombe seemed to.”

  “Really? I’d have thought the war would’ve touched you more there, in a small town.”

  “Oh, it’s not that the war didn’t touch us. It’s just that people carry on with life in the same way as they did before. Nothing really changes. It’s like they soak up the loss quietly and just move on, doing the same thing day in, day out. It’s so frustrating.”

  “And here in London we seem so very desperate to get over it. To do anything other than what our parents did before. To be young and honour the men who didn’t get to be. Hard to say which approach is best, really, don’t you think?”

  Evelyn pondered Lilian’s words. “At least you acknowledge that there was a war,” she said, finally.

  “Well, we do try to forget, of course. Quite successfully.” Lilian managed a smile, though there was a tired look in her eyes. Silence descended again, as both women sipped their tea. “So, tell me, what are you doing in London?”

  “What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, surprised. “I’m not doing anything, other than bringing you the letter.” Evelyn felt as though it was a lie, even though, on the surface, she told the truth.

  “You came all this way? Couldn’t you have posted it?” Lilian’s questions betrayed curiosity, not suspicion now.

  “I could’ve done. But you know, you could’ve moved and it could’ve meant the letter was lost. I wanted to be sure that didn’t happen. And, well, I wanted to see London too, of course.”

  “So not an entirely unselfish act then? Oh, don’t look so worried, I’m glad. I’d feel awfully uncomfortable if you were an entirely selfless angel, descended into my terribly selfish world! So what do you think of London so far?”

  Lilian seemed to have forgotten most of her sadness, and Evelyn was glad, encouraged by her good natured questions. “I’ve not seen much of it. Just Paddington Station and what I saw from the cab. But it seems very exciting and interesting. And big, even bigger than I expected.”

  “Oh, London’s just the tops, I can tell you. I spent a good part of my life at a school out in the sticks in Kent and I’m happy to be in the city. You can always find someone to spend an evening with in London.”

  “I can imagine…” Evelyn realised that such a thing had never really been a consideration in her life.

  “No, darling, you can’t imagine.” Lilian’s smile was broad, her twinkling eyes hinting at a world far beyond Evelyn’s imagination. “No one can, until they’ve really seen it. So, where are you staying?”

  Evelyn felt her face flush. “I was hoping to ask your advice on that. I do have some money and I obviously can’t return home today.”

  “Money? Ha, you’ll stay here then, if you have no other plans, with me of course! I can’t have you coming all this way with a letter for me and send you off to a hotel, can I now? Besides, you’re interesting to me.”

  Evelyn stirred uncomfortably, not sure she liked feeling like an interesting specimen, at the same time as Lilian’s words brought a flood of relief to her nerves. “I’m really not that interesting,” she protested, “but that’s ever so kind of you. Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I don’t say what I don’t mean. And James won’t mind. He’s my brother, you know, my baby brother. He and I share this house.”

  “Oh, but I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You won’t be, darling. Besides, I think you probably half expected me to offer, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t like to presume…”

  “Oh, don’t take me so seriously, Evie. I can call you Evie, can’t I? Topping! So you’ll stay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Evelyn barely had time to consider her good fortune before Lilian continued.

  “In that case, I’ll show you to your room. You can have a wash if you like. And tonight, you can hear me sing at the Yellow Orchid.”

  “You sing?” Evelyn found this fascinating.

  “Yes, jazz. At the Orchid. It’s a fabulous place. You’ll learn a whole lot more about London than I can tell you, from one visit there.” Lilian’s smile again hinted at dark and glamorous mysteries. Evelyn was not sure whether she should feel excited or frightened. A sense of anticipation reduced her feeling of fatigue. So far, she had been right to trust Edward.

  Chapter Five

  Their tea finished, Lilian showed Evelyn to a room on the first floor of the house. The window looked out onto the street and was framed with maroon curtains. There was a thic
k carpet on the floor, soft underfoot. A matching wardrobe, dressing table with mirror, and bedside table gave the room a harmonious appearance, for all that it felt rather more sparse than the downstairs sitting room. The bed was far larger than Evelyn’s own. Currently the bedding was folded on the bare mattress.

  “I’ll make sure Grace makes up the bed for you before she leaves for the day. I won’t have my domestic help living in, you see—she deserves to have a home of her own, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Evelyn agreed without giving her response much thought. She placed her suitcase next to the one other piece of furniture in the room, a narrow, straight-backed armchair, upholstered in the same colour as the curtains.

  “Will this be all right for you, darling?” Lilian looked around at the room without much concern.

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” Evelyn replied.

  “Don’t worry about flattery, my love. It’s not that lovely. We’re well-off enough but there just seem to be more important things to spend money on, you know, than prettying up the guest rooms and suchlike. Mater persists in being shocked by it, mind you. You should see what it’s like in The Cedars. That’s where Mater and Pater live, by the way, with our sister Katy. James wanted to be in the city for his work—he’s an architect—and I wanted to be here for, well, for everything you can have here that you can’t have out in the Hertfordshire countryside.”

  Evelyn blinked, trying to take in everything Lilian had told her about herself in that one short monologue. Everything triggered additional questions in Evelyn’s mind but, for now, she hesitated to ask them. She could not presume friendship with Lilian yet, especially when she had yet to meet James Grainger, who might not be quite so accommodating.

  “Well, if you’re coming out with us this evening, and I really think you should, you’ve got until about seven o’clock to be ready. So you might want to have a rest, but make a start soon.”

  “Oh yes.” Evelyn looked at her watch. It was now just after four o’clock. She could not imagine how it would take her three hours to be ready for anything.

  “I have to go myself, but I’m just on the floor above. If you need me, come to the bottom of the stairs and shout.”

  “I will, thank you.” Evelyn smiled at Lilian, who returned the gesture and went towards the door.

  “I’ll send Grace up with the things for the bed as soon as she has a moment. Do you need her to bring anything else?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Thank you.”

  Lilian smiled again and disappeared through the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her. Evelyn was suddenly alone, in silence.

  Lilian’s presence had so filled every moment since she had answered the door to Evelyn that the absence of it affected her strongly. The air was still; even distant sounds were muffled. The light was fading outside. Standing in the centre of the room, rubbing her hands together, Evelyn felt more of a stranger here, in London and in Lilian’s house, than she had expected to. There was nothing in her experience to prepare her for this. How was she supposed to respond to Lilian’s warm, robust hospitality? Could she allow herself to be drawn into Lilian’s exuberance when, at home, she’d caused heartache, pain, and shame? The excitement of being in London waged a war with her anxiety and guilt and, neither winning, she found herself numbed, unsure what to feel.

  Dazed, she perched on the side of the unmade bed. The mattress springs creaked softly. She was facing the window and her eyes were drawn to the buildings across the street. More windows, more rooftops. Who sat behind those panes of glass? Were they happier than she was? More sure of themselves? Or feeling just as lost? She thought of Edward, and tears sprang to her eyes. What was he doing now? However much of him they had lost, her separation from him now hurt more than she had guessed it would. She wished there was a way he could see her and know she was all right, that she was here, in London. She wished there was a way to reach out to West Coombe and relieve some of the guilt. She could not go home but she had no wish to leave a wake of pain behind her.

  A brisk knock on the door startled her out of her reverie. “Yes?” she called.

  The door opened to admit a young woman, younger than Evelyn, in a neat grey dress. Her dark hair was short and waved and she was remarkably slender. In her arms she carried bed linen.

  “Is it all right if I come in? To make the bed up? I’m Grace.”

  Evelyn jumped to her feet, feeling awkward. “Oh yes. That’s fine. I mean, if you want to just leave the sheets, I’m perfectly capable of making my own bed.”

  Grace smiled. “You’re a guest here and I’m being paid to work, so I’ll do it.”

  “Oh, thank you. I’m Evelyn, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Will you be staying long?” Grace moved towards the bed, removed the pillows and blankets, and started to fold the flat sheet over the mattress. Evelyn stood awkwardly to one side.

  “I don’t know, if I’m honest.” Evelyn could be no more specific. She’d not thought to bring up the topic with Lilian and found herself entirely uncertain how long her invitation to stay was valid for.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, only that I’ll need to know to make the fire up in here if you’re not to freeze. And what do you eat for breakfast?”

  “I don’t mind at all.” To contemplate such ordinary considerations was a little remarkable on such an extraordinary day.

  “Well, there’s always bread—or toast—and butter or marmalade. And I make a pot of porridge most days in winter. Tea or coffee, whichever you want, it’s no trouble. You’ll have to let me know if you want eggs or bacon or anything fancy.”

  “Thank you. Toast is just fine.”

  “No trouble.” Grace had finished with the sheet and also put the two pillows into their cases. She began work on the top sheet and woollen blankets. Evelyn watched, wondering what it was like to grow up with someone to do such simple tasks on your behalf. She did not really enjoy the experience of being made to watch rather than do the job herself. She was relieved when Grace had finished and headed towards the door.

  “Did she show you where the bathroom is?” Grace’s tone was indulgent.

  Evelyn wasn’t sure if she was trying to be kind, or patronising her. “No. Would you mind?”

  “This way.” Grace led Evelyn out of the bedroom to a closed door at the end of a narrow landing. “It’s this one.” Grace opened the door and Evelyn peered inside, astonished at how comfortable and opulent the bathroom seemed. The walls were all tiled in dark green. There was a large enamelled bathtub, a basin, and a toilet. Although her West Coombe home did have inside running water, the very small bathroom, with its metal tub, was a purely functional space which was also the area in which they washed clothes, and their lavatory was in an outbuilding.

  “This is just for this floor of course, there’s one upstairs as well. Just as well, since Lilian can be some time, once she decides she’s getting ready for an evening out.”

  “So this is just for me?”

  “Well, James has his room over there”—Grace pointed to the furthest door from Evelyn’s room—“so he uses this one as well. But he’s out most of the day, working, so it’s mostly yours.”

  “Well, thank you.” Evelyn did not feel inclined to express her impressions of the bathroom to Grace, who already seemed to have judged her naive and perhaps a little stupid.

  “If you need me, ring the bell or come and find me. I’m going to put some supper on so there’s something to come back to later.”

  “Of course, thank you.”

  Grace left Evelyn standing on the landing as she went back down the stairs. Evelyn retreated quickly into the room, now looking more welcoming with the bed fully made up. She closed the door and looked around. The room smelled of lavender, and Evelyn wondered if there were sachets in the drawers.

  In an attempt to feel more at one with her surroundings, Evelyn reached for her suitcase, laid it on the bed, and opened the lid. She lifted out the first gar
ment, a dark green woollen cardigan, and held it to her face. The smell of home surrounded her. She wanted nothing more than to sit with Edward, hold his hand, then retire to her own bed, her place of safety, and sleep. Emotion welling, she sank onto the bed, her face still buried in the cardigan. For the first time since she had begun this adventure, she cried, from loneliness and fear and with the realisation that, whatever happened, she could not go back.

  *

  A loud banging jolted Evelyn out of the restless sleep she had fallen into. Her eyes stung with the tears she had still been crying when sleep had overtaken her. Her face felt flushed and her mouth dry. Another bang. On the door.

  Hurriedly, Evelyn climbed from the bed, quickly running her hands over her hair in an attempt to look decent. There was no time to check her eyes for signs of her tears.

  “Evie?” Lilian’s voice, slightly impatient, called from outside.

  “Yes? I’m coming.” Evelyn opened the door. Lilian entered immediately, brushing past Evelyn and into the centre of the room.

  “I was hoping you’d help me with the fastenings of this.” Lilian gestured at her dress. She hardly needed to draw Evelyn’s attention to it, for Evelyn was already staring. Lilian’s dress was a vivid salmon pink, the tone of which had also seemed to inspire the fish-scale pattern which covered the bodice in silver thread and sparkling stones. The waist sat low on Lilian’s rather broad hips and the skirts fell in stripes of the same pink and a lighter-toned fabric. The stripes were defined with more silver thread and embroidered patterns. The sheer fabric reached only just about to Lilian’s knees, showing the whole of her stockinged calves. She was currently without shoes or slippers.

  Lilian had clearly noticed Evelyn staring. “Do you like it? It’s new for Christmas, this one.”

  “Yes, it’s beautiful.” Evelyn was not sure if she meant the compliment or not. Certainly the detailing of the dress was exquisite, but Lilian’s appearance was also rather startling.

  “It’s not as though I’d wear so much sparkle every day, of course, darling. But I will be onstage, you know.”